Normal Enough
by Delenn
Summary: NEW:8-6-03 Her version of normal consists of industrial black curtains to keep out the sunlight, weapons in every room, and most importantly, the on-and-off-again relationship of the two in front of her. And now she's being told that her version of normal


**Disclaimer: See, there's this god that walks around on earth, and this god, he owns 'em all. Bow down to the great Joss! Ya'know, 'cause I'm just a lowly fan who likes to sneak in and borrow the characters; Hey, I promised to return 'em, eventually.   
  
Author's Notes: What can I say; I have no idea where these story ideas come from. Uh, let's see, this is shortish, finished, and I don't know where I'm going with this. It's the prequel to my short story "Normal" which received a few requests for a sequel and/or a prequel. I decided I liked the last option better and this story was born. Well actually, I sat about and promised I'd work on it for months, then low-and-behold, put me on a computer at 2am and watch what flows! I don't think I'm going to continue this prequelness anymore, and there probably won't be a sequel, but if there are still questions you want answered or you still want to see the future after "Normal" let me know. I'm open to all possibilities.   
  
Summary: Her version of normal consists of industrial black curtains to keep out the sunlight, weapons in every room, and most importantly, the on-and-off-again relationship of the two in front of her. And now she's being told that her version of normal isn't normal enough.   
  
Reviews: Would be HUGELY appreciated! I'm not sure how I feel about this, so any suggestions/help/I-love-it's would be very helpful!   
  
Rated: PG/PG-13   
  
Date Started/Finished: August 2nd 2003**   
  


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Normal Enough   
By ~Delenn~

  
  
  
  
"So, that's it then? You're just giving up?" The doors are being slammed, and we're one moment away from screeching-howler-monkey taking over her voice.   
  
Slowly, cautiously, the couple steps away from each other, embarrassed at being caught in what is their last fleeting bit of time together. But it's never been about them and now there are more pressing issues, questions that need answers.   
  
Understandably, her reply is cautious, not wanting to set off the infamous tempers of everyone in the room. "We talked about this, and we decided that it's not working."   
  
Oh, she's bitter all right. She's spent years planning out their lives together, the three of them, with moonlit walks and strange morning coffee, cereal, and blood rituals. Her version of normal consists of industrial black curtains to keep out the sunlight, weapons in every room, and most importantly, the on-and-off-again relationship of the two in front of her.   
  
And now she's being told that her version of normal isn't normal enough, that the last few months amount to nothing more than a big tease. "You mean, you decided it couldn't work. This is so like you, always thinking of yourself. What about us?"   
  
Slowly, as if pained, the male voice in the room speaks up, saving the inevitable confrontation from exploding for at least a few more minutes. He knows he is to blame for his own pain and that of the women he loves and he's never been one to avoid admitting his faults. "Actually, I decided."   
  
This puts a stop to her bitterness and anger at her sister, her only remaining family. No, instead it's the one person she always wanted added to her family that is destroying them. "But why, what gives you the right to decide that?"   
  
He lets out an unneeded sigh, wondering if he will lose her in this deal as well. Of course, he had expected that as a possibility, but he doesn't want to lose her, not after everything, not if it means he has to lose both of them. "Luv, I know you want this to work, but it's not. And I've been blind enough to not see that as long as it's been. I know you've been happy, and I'm bloody glad, but," he pauses to gesture to the other woman in the room, giving him a moment to say what needs to be said. "She's not, pet."   
  
Looking into the eyes of her sister, it's easy to remember the arguments that she's always looked past, how the screaming, furniture debilitating, fights have taken their toll on the other woman. He's right, her sister is not happy, and she knows that the decision was made long before now. Nothing she can say will change anything, "So, what, you're leaving?"   
  
The other woman refuses to look up, her strength there but being contained in the clenched fists she is focusing on. She is well aware that if she looks up all she will see is the pain she is causing those she cares for by her own inability to be happy. To love. She came back wrong and she knows it, everything since then has just made it worse and she can't pretend it's okay anymore. It's not fair to them. Quietly, she answers the question that wasn't really directed at her, "Yeah."   
  
He can feel accusing eyes on his back but the only person he can look at won't meet his gaze, won't acknowledge this as possibly goodbye forever. Wonderful knowing you, come visit never. And hey, it's been emotionally scarring, but that could pass for fun. He wouldn't trade any of it, either. He answers the question even though she already did, "We figured it would be best. Make a clean brake for once, after all that's happened. I'll stay in touch, if either of you need me."   
  
Her world is crumbling, and all she can think is that she shouldn't have gotten up today, should have got better grades, into less trouble, listened more and caused less fights. Most of all that maybe if she closes her eyes and wishes really hard this day won't have happened and when she opens them everything will be normal again. But no demons answer her prayers and when she opens her eyes, his back is still to her, and her sister's eyes are still locked on the floor.   
  
Slowly, carefully, she makes her decision, one that she's been unconsciously planning because she knew somewhere that this day was coming eventually. "Then I'm leaving too. I can't stand to be around here, around either of you. I'll move away, stay with Willow."   
  
Her sister cringes but doesn't decline the request to leave. Everyone leaves her and she knew that this situation would be no different. Not her choice, but it still happens. She misses them already. "Dawnie, you know Wills is having problems with everything after…" none of them can talk about it yet.   
  
They all knew better, tragedy like that isn't a solid foundation for a relationship and happiness. It would have been better if they hadn't tried; he knows that, they all know that. It just makes everything so much harder that they tried and failed rather then having not tried at all.   
  
Dawn has given up her battle with screeching-howler-monkey and chokes out, trying not to let the tears fall, "I DON'T CARE! I'm leaving. Now get out," when there is no movement from either party and she knows she is crying, she gives it up. Reverting to herself from almost two years ago, insecure and angry, "GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!"   
  
They do as they are told and that is it. There is no further goodbye. Buffy doesn't beg her to stay, she actually waits for Dawn to leave before coming back at all, too lost in her own little world. Spike's leather duster flapping in the wind is as close to a wave goodbye as Dawn will receive for the next morning he is gone, having left a number to reach him.   
  
And by the time he calls what had been his family for a few fleeting months, by the time he has gotten past his own pain enough to be there for them, everything's already gone.   
  


-(-)-

  
  
Slowly, Dawn is becoming accustomed to the never-ending hectic mess that is Willow's life and apartment. She's long since given up cleaning when she gets in from school, because the witch tends to simply make more of a mess if she happens across a clean area.   
  
Dawn no longer waits up till all hours for her chosen guardian to get home because sometimes Willow isn't back for days. After everything that's happened, Dawn understands, but she still worries about the witch and watches her decent into dark magic's with increasing apprehension.   
  
She digs through several bundles of herbs and crystals to find a bare spot on the couch to sit. Through the window Dawn can see the harsh cold winter of New York, threatening to get into even their apartment. It's so different from Sunnydale winters; the amount of clothing needed to venture outside is astounding.   
  
But, now that she thinks about it, everything is so different from the winter last year. Then, she was warm while pretending not to be because it's just not winter unless you're in long sleeves. The house was huge, comfy, but bordering on insanely clean.   
  
The cleaning had been an obsession of her guardians then, they would actually switch off depending on who had had the tougher night, or who had started a fight. At one point a social worker had shown up and had actually asked if anyone lived there, because the house had been so sparkling clean that none of the occupants things had been visible, instead spirited away for the sake of too much energy.   
  
Of course, there had been fun times over it too; Dawn remembered many post-midnight family scrubbings of the house. Her guardians moving furniture out of the way as effortlessly as they would a fly, the three of them scrubbing floors, walls, then each other until they were a mass of bubbles and laughter. Wet clothing aside.   
  
So, maybe her fence had never been white or picket, because, fence equals pointiness and wood equals badness, so instead hers had been dark and metal, with rounded edges. Decorational railroad spikes, if you will. But it had been her fence and her family and her normal and it had been enough and she had loved every moment of it.   
  
However, Dawn didn't want to think of those times, when everything had been normal and good and there really was a happy-ever-after at the end of the story. Now was nothing like that. Willow was sucking herself into a pit that revolved around magic, and Dawn was fine with that as long as the magic was nowhere near her.   
  
So Dawn spent her time alone, or with friends, at parties, at someone else's house, anyone else's house. She drank with people who considered demons personal, things that lived in your head and not real life, slashing, heart-breaking creatures. People who didn't know that she wasn't like them.   
  
She liked that. That nobody knew, and they didn't have to. The demons were mostly still in Sunnydale after the Slayer and nowhere around here to bother the Former Key.   
  
Nope, there was no way she was coming back to good old Sunnydale. Which brought her to the reason she was sitting home alone tonight instead of out with friends. The letter clutched in her hand, yet another in a long line of one-sided communications from her sister.   
  
Just like the note announcing her marriage with the pretty card with the impersonal note at the top and pleading script at the bottom. Except this was announcing a baby.   
  
Dawn tossed the card aside with distain, wondering how long it was going to take her sister to realize that this was all wrong, and as normal as everyone said it was, it wasn't normal for them. So, no, she wouldn't come back to see the new baby, her niece, she wouldn't go, ever. This was her world now.   
  


-(-)-

  
  
The very second she saw the house she couldn't stop smiling. So, it was dark when she made her first appearance, for the sake of the vampires present, but she knew anyway that this was it.   
  
It wasn't the ever-elusive perfect happiness, but this was as close as she would ever come.   
  
Bouncing the baby in her arms she turned, opened the gate, and - careful about the white picket fence - led her guests in with a cheerful, "Come on in everyone, this is the new abode!" As though they were invited for courtesy, not necessity.   
  
Looking at her new husband, her new home, her new baby, all she could think of was that this was what she had always said she didn't want. What being the Slayer was never supposed to let her have, so she had refused to even dream about it anymore. Yet here she was.   
  
It was perfect.   
  
It wasn't bland and horrid like her other fleeting attempts at normal, it wasn't painful and dark like most of her life. It was cheery and sunny and bright even though it was dark outside. She could see herself entertaining guests and having friends over who weren't vampires and witches and demons.   
  
This, she knew without a doubt, was what she had always wanted for her life, at least in some part of her mind. Things as they should have been, like before she was sixteen, before her entire world turned from normal and fun to freaky and death.   
  
And, yes, it hurt to look at the men who had forced her to this place while she cried and refused; it had hurt when they left and it still hurt now. But one look at little Joy and she realized they had been right.   
  
She was fairly sure that she loved Joy, and not the remembered forced love that she had only been able to feel since she'd come back years ago now, but something that felt real, that felt right.   
  
Yet looking over the room the people she most wanted to witness this moment of rightness weren't there. Or they were there but they weren't like she remembered.   
  
So many gone, people that would never be able to come back and that she missed so much. Xander, Anya, Giles, Tara, Kennedy. And people who were lost to her even if they weren't dead. Dawn, Willow, Oz, Faith, even Angel had declined her invitation, busy with his own problems.   
  
He was here though, he had promised to always be there when she needed him and so when she had asked, he had come. He wouldn't look at her though, wouldn't look at the baby, wouldn't look at anything but that same chipped black nail polish that he used to have.   
  
Spike. But not her Spike, not the Spike that had patrolled with her and saved Dawn and them all numerous times. Not the Spike who had stayed up to all hours of the day with her, leather duster tossed somewhere, cleaning, because there was some inspection from social services or the watcher's council coming.   
  
She wanted him to hug her, to hold her like he used to, hell, she'd settle if he'd even look at her. But that wouldn't happen; he'd come because she'd asked and because he loved her. And she couldn't love him. Couldn't love anybody except this tiny creature in her arms that had her eyes and her mother's laugh.   
  
She wouldn't let any of that daunt her though, this was her life now and it was perfect, despite how she'd gotten here. She was happy and still loved, even if she could only really love this one little person, most important, she was alive to see it all. One more day here with her family, introducing them to what remained of her friends.   
  
So yes, she was happy, and as damn near perfectly happy as she was ever going to be, so what if it was normal, it was perfect. So what if the world ended tomorrow as she knew it still could? She, Buffy Anne Summers, was happy, here, now. Even if it only lasted to tomorrow, she'd take that. 


End file.
